TEN
JACK
I’m glad everyone was so focused on their scraps of paper when I read mine, because I know I flicked my eyes to him when I saw. Now that everyone’s gone, I pull the paper from my pocket and grin.
Elliot.
I’m going to have fun with this. A small, horrible gift, to distract him. His favorite candy bar to let him know I listen to him, but make him think I have no clue how to give gifts. He might think that already, since I got him a sweater a few weeks ago—but I’m pretty sure he likes practical gifts, anyway.
This’ll throw him off the scent for his real gift, on Christmas Day.
“What’s happening with your face right now?”
Janet stares at me over a cold piece of broccoli pizza, one eyebrow raised. She’s the only other one awake now, looking at something on her laptop at the table.
“It’s called excitement,” I tell her. She scoffs at me. “I’m thinking about giving Eli his gift. You remember the big one, right? Now I get to give him two, with Secret Santa.”
“I remember doing that with friends in high school,” Janet says around a mouthful.
I open the fridge and refill my water bottle from the pitcher. “Hey, when’s Uncle Henry getting here, again?”
She’s sucked into her laptop again. “Day before Christmas Eve. And they’re leaving on the 26th. Mom said they’re going to see Aunt May’s side of the family in Texas for the rest of the time the cousins are on break.”
That’s . . . a lot of traveling. “At least they’ll be here for a few days.” I take slow steps, trying to act casual while I steal a glance at her laptop.
Janet turns the laptop toward me. “Here, super spy. I was going to show you soon, anyway.”
I sit down next to her and pull the laptop closer. “MamaBenson’sBestMeals,” I read. “It’s done?”
“It’s officially a blog,” Janet confirms, an upturn to her lips. “And it has a few followers. I made the first post live last week. I’m putting up the second tomorrow. That way I can show Mom how it works and she can jump in—or I can run it for her, since she does so much.”
She leads me through the blog she’s created, talking me through how she snuck pictures of every meal she could once she figured out she wanted to do this, just to have them ready, and studied other cooking and homemaker blogs to see what was popular. Ideally, she says Mom will be able to write little posts about family life or restaurant work, and include recipes everyso often. If she can get a loyal fanbase she can try to make a business name.
“You want to make this a career for her,” I say.
Janet takes her laptop back, sliding the top shut. “I don’t even know if she’ll like it. I’m getting ahead of myself, but . . . I want her to be more appreciated. I want others to see what we do, get her name out there—make her a profit, even. There’s a lot of groundwork to be done before that happens, if it does at all, but if she likes the blog idea, that’s what I’m going toward with my degree.”
I tackle her with a hug so fiercely that we just about fall to the floor.
Janet braces us by grabbing the table. “Jeez, Jack!”
She doesn’t push me away though. She freezes for a second once it’s clear she’s not falling off her chair, and then wraps her arms around me.
“If Mom walked in now she’d bring us both to have psych evaluations,” Janet mutters.
I laugh and lean back. It would be an odd sight. It was an odd feeling. I never hug my sister, aside from awkward half-hugs for pictures and things. I couldn’t help it though. “Don’t expect it to be a habit,” I say, to hide that fact. “You just did a great job with the blog, and the plan—and I’m tired!”
She shoves me, but she’s smiling. “Get lost, dweeb.”
This surprise for Mom, our surprise for Eli, getting to see my extended family . . . man I can’t wait for Christmas.
Apparently I do haveto wait for snow. My phone says there’s no chance of snow when I wake up Saturday morning, and a definite bout of rain.
“You’re still sulking,” Eli says when he meets me at the library after my shift.
I gesture ten feet ahead of us, just outside the cover of the building—where it’s downpouring. “That’s not snow.”
He pulls out his umbrella and opens it over us. “It’s not Christmas yet. If it snowed now, we’d probably lose it by Christmas. Better if it waits to fall.”
